Themed Fridays
by The Third Marauder
Summary: A bored Sirius comes up with idea of themed Fridays and tricks James to participate. The catch? The raven haired quidditch captain must speak in Victorian English for a day. A humorous one-shot. Dialogue only. MWPP era.


**Disclaimer: All Characters you recognize belong to the wondrous JK Rowling. Thank you for letting me borrow them. **

A sigh.

"I'm bored."

No response.

Another sigh followed by a painful thump

"Ouch—what was that for?"

"I'm bored!"

"So?"

"Let's go to Hogsmead!"

"Padfoot, I have work to do."

"Do it later."

"You know very well that I can't. We only have one more practice before Saturday's game, and I need to finalize these plays."

"Hufflepuff's a pushover. There's no way you're not going to win."

Silence.

Another thump.

"Bloody hell, Sirius, what's your—"

"I'm bored!"

"Go bother Remus."

"Can't."

Exasperation.

"Why not?"

"He's at the Prefect meeting."

A pause.

"Right. Go do… something."

"I'm already doing something."

"Throwing things at my head doesn't qualify as a proper activity."

"Pray, tell, what else am I supposed to do?"

"I dunno… go plan something."

Thoughtful silence.

"If I do, do you promise to go through with it?"

"As long—"

"Without changing anything!"

"If I don't?"

"I'll keep throwing these at you."

A resigned exhale.

"Damn you."

"That too."

A quill scribbles on a parchment, until:

"Where did you get those wooden balls, anyway?"

"Conjured them."

"Oh."

"Why?"

"St. Patrick's Day is coming up…"

A smirk.

"Excellent."

The black eyebrows rise questioningly.

* * *

"Themed Fridays?"

"Isn't it brilliant?"

"You mean to tell me that this Friday we have to… no. I will not. I refuse."

Singing, "You promised."

"I hate you."

"I know."

"At least help me force Moony to do it too?"

"You know I always will."

* * *

"Why do we have to talk as if we were in the Victorian era again?"

"Because, good sir, I have unfortunately gone for the worse in a little wager our mutual associate Mr. Black has placed."

"And what does that have to do with me?"

Flatly, "If I'm going to suffer, you'll be joining me."

A clearing of the throat.

"Sorry Padfoot… If I'm to suffer this terrible injustice, it would be most honorable of you to join me in my terrible endeavor."

"Let me think about it… no!"

"Really, Moony, it's:" clear throat "Allow me to ponder the social consequence this may place on my reputation. Nay, I will not!" a pause. "You're right, Padfoot, this _is_ kind of fun."

"Thank you, Mr. Potter. I was ever so confident that you would view it from my perspective."

Giggles.

"You two sound so ridiculous."

"Not as ridiculous as you will look if you don't help."

"Merlin, what did you do?"

"Nothing… We just turned your hair pink."

"You know I could just undo—I despise you."

"Detest, Moony. They'd say, I utterly detest you."

"How do you know so much about Victorian speech, Prongs?"

No response.

* * *

"My dearest, fairest lady… will you please do me the honor of accompanying me in a turn about this room?"

"No, Potter, I'm not going to walk around the room with you!"

Slam.

"To be fair to Evans, he didn't even wait for breakfast. But stalking out of the common room like that? He only asked for a small walk…"

"Bad luck, mate."

"I thank you most heartily for your sympathies, Mr. Padfoot."

"It is my pleasure, Mr. Potter."

* * *

"May I be forward with you, Ms. Evans—"

"No."

"I am most enamored with you. It would give me great pleasure to further our acquaintance into a courtship."

A swish of a wand.

"By Jove! I've been slain!"

"Potter, it's just a stinging hex…"

"At least he waited until after breakfast this time."

"You couldn't be more correct, Moony."

"If you two gentlemen are inclined to conjecture about my assiduous courting of our wondrous Ms. Evans, at least do so with proper vocabulary."

* * *

"Hey, Potter! About the match tomorrow… I was thinking we should go for a—"

"I say! If it isn't Mr. Erickson."

"Funny, Potter. Seriously though—"

"I am being most serious, my good fellow, when I say that I'm fully confident our side in tomorrow's match has no apertures and is indomitable. In fact, I've had a presentiment that we will be despotic during the match."

"Sorry?"

"Good day to you, sir. I shall see you in battle on the morrow."

* * *

"This is absolutely ridiculous, Padfoot."

"Hold off a second, Moony, I want to watch Evans dump her goblet on him… Merlin, I wish I had a camera. All right, go on."

"I was just saying that—"

"Wait, he's coming."

"I was simply appraising that our dear Mr. Potter is most capricious and your wager with him may result in an exigency with Ms. Evans."

"Oohh, very nice, Moony. I'm impressed."

"Astounding! She has rejected my dalliance once again. Do you believe that a floral arrangement would be expedient in such a situation?"

Groan.

* * *

"What is the difference between these two spells? Mr. Potter?"

"I'm afraid I'm unable to answer your inquiry, Ms. McGonagall. It does me great shame to admit to my indolence. But, please, allow this erudition to continue."

"He's having _way_ too much fun with this…"

"This is all your fault, Padfoot."

* * *

"He actually got the flowers?"

"It would please me if you accepted these as a token of my love. Please forgive my paroxysm when I say that I'm deeply smitten with—"

Slap.

"Ouch. That looked—"

"Painful."

"Very painful."

"I am beginning to think that this refectory is not propitious to my courtship."

"Honestly, where are you learning this language?"

* * *

"Is the day over yet?"

"It's only three, Moony."

"Seriously?"

"I'm always—"

"Sir, that dudgeon is abhorrent."

"…Can't you just say you hate the joke?"

"Our wager means I am not at liberty to do such a thing. And quite frankly, it is an outrage that you would suggest it, Mr. Moony."

"Isn't there anywhere you need to go? Library. Quidditch field. Evans?"

"My gratitude for reminding me of my appointment with Ms. Evans. I'm sure she would be awfully saturnine if I didn't attend."

"Reckon Evans knows about this meeting?"

"I seriously doubt it."

"You mean you Siriusly—All right! Just point that wand somewhere else, will you?"

* * *

"Mr. Wormtail! Was your time in the Hospital Wing salubrious?"

"Peter! I'm sorry about him… You see, Padfoot—"

"Mr. Moony!"

"Fine. Mr. Potter gave a gentleman's oath that he give Mr. Black one service of his choosing. Mr. Black decided it would be amusing—sorry, agreeable—for Mr. Potter to speak in Victorian English for a day."

"Solar period, Moony. Really…"

"They didn't say that."

"I know, but it seems more formal."

* * *

"What time is it?"

"Just after five."

* * *

"Now what time is it?"

"Moony, you asked this ten minutes ago!"

"It only took James ten minutes to get jinxed three times by Lily?"

"Apparently… Erm, make that four times."

* * *

"Come, Mssrs Moony, Wormtail and Padfoot. We must away!"

"Er…"

"Tis suppertime, chaps!"

Relieved sighs.

* * *

"Ladies and Gentlemen! It is my pleasure to announce to Hogwart's populous that you are all cordially invited to the Gryffindor versus Hufflepuff quidditch match to-morrow eve. It would be most assuaging to my fellow team members and I if you should attend this match and display the appropriate level of support. Despite the disparity in skill between the two teams, I'm most certain that the game will prove anything put insipid. Thank you!"

Mumbles break out.

"Why is he talking like that?"

"I bet it's the newest fashion."

"Oh, so how do we learn?"

"I wish I could be that cool…"

"Do you think we can pretend not to know him, Padfoot?

"If only, Moony. If only…"

"Shift over, sir, so I may break bread with you."

An annoyed growl.

* * *

"Er, Mr. Black?"

"Yes, Mr. Potter."

"It is my recommendation that we walk quickly, yet gracefully, away."

"Why?"

"Our associate, Mr. Erickson seems delighted to see us. In fact, he's heading over to converse."

"Quidditch strategies?"

"Precisely."

"Let's go."

* * *

"Anybody else would feel like a fool talking like that."

"Key words there, anyone else."

"Oy, Mr. Snivellus, you uncouth rogue. You ought to wipe your prodigious nose."

"I concur with your declamation, Mr. Potter."

"Thank you, Mr. Black. _Tarantalegra_!"

"Very nice. Mr. Snivellus has been in sore need of proper dance lessons."

"Do you reckon we should warn them that Evans is coming?"

"If you properly cleanse his hair, are you of the opinion the fiend might be more comely looking, Mr. Potter?"

"No, Wormtail, I don't think we should."

* * *

"I can't believe you didn't tell us that Evans was behind us!"

"I am astounded at your lack of loyalty."

"You had it coming…"

"Mr. Moony!"

"You can't say that in Victorian English!"

"Yes you can. Thou, er, had it, erm, cometh…ing."

"First of all, that's not even proper grammar. Secondly, Prongs, that would be Shakespearian English."

"Minor details… Now Prongs and I could really use some help removing these… what are these called?"

"Er, bat bogeys, I think."

"Right, these bat bogeys… Shut up, Wormtail."

* * *

"Potter!"

"Ah, it's a pleasure to see you, Ms. McGonagall."

"I've received six complaints about your behavior in class today, Potter."

"My dear lady, of what nature are these grievances?"

"I've been told that you've disrupted all your classes by talking—you know what, never mind."

"No, please, inform me of the accusations of your colleagues."

"For Merlin's sake Potter, you have a quidditch game tomorrow! You have no time to spend fooling around like this!"

"Fooling around? I can assure you, Ms. McGonagall, I am doing anything but!"

"And stop talking like that!"

"Like what?"

"I'm too old for this…"

* * *

"Is it midnight, yet?"

"Nine forty five."

"Damn."

"Don't worry, Moony. Quidditch game tomorrow. So he'll be in bed by ten thirty."

* * *

"Ms. Evans! I—"

"Go away, Potter."

"Your wish is my command, my lady."

"That'd be Medieval, Potter."

"And this?"

"Hey! Get your lips off my hand! And let go of it! Now I have to go take another shower."

"I can accom—"

"If you even think of finish that sentence—"

"I shall take my leave, mademoiselle."

* * *

"My good fellows, it is on this sad note that I retire to bed. I implore the rest of the team to abjure from their conversations and do the same. Good night."

Confused silence.

"He means it's bedtime for the Gryffindor Quidditch team."

Loud shuffling.

"Thank God it's over. I'm never asking James to do that again."

* * *

**The next day.**

"Welcome, ladies and gentlement, to the Gryffindor-Hufflepuff Quidditch match. Fortunately, there is good amity among these two teams. We shan't have to watch the impropriety shown by the Slytherin side at the last match with all their perfidious plays, shall we?"

Moans from the Gryffindor section.

"Oh, Merlin, what have you done?"

"How was I supposed to know everyone would follow James' lead, Moony?"

"Because, everyone always does."

A breath.

"I suppose you're going to blame this on me?"

"Yes."

"I solemnly swear never to be bored again."

"Well, at least you've learned _something _from this."

* * *

**I really apologize for the randomness of this fic. I was watching the Pride and Prejudice, and it suddenly popped in my head how amusing it would be if Harry Potter characters acted in that pretentious fashion. Furthermore, I needed a fun way to practice the S.A.T. and A.C.T. vocabulary. So, out came this fic. Hope you enjoyed it, nonetheless. **


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